You are not here
by AnimeAndGleeFan4Eva
Summary: when Adam suddenly dies. Everyone but Kurt has their role in the grieving process, Kurt finds himself living on the outside of it, unacknowledged and lonely. How can you recover from a loss no one will let you have? DON'T OWN THE BOOK OR THE PLOT. ALL CREDIT GOES TO GLEE AND SAMANTHA SCHUTZ -klaine
1. Prolog

**Alright, I just finished reading this story and I thought it would kinda fit with Blaine and Kurt, so I gave it a try :D anyway um R&R if you want and if you don't then have a nice day :). so I don't own own "You are not here" all credits go to Samantha Schutz and I don't own Glee either. **

I walk down my block and take

and then take a right turn.

Two more blocks

and I'll be with Adam.

For the first time

in a long time,

I know he'll be there

waiting for me.

I sit down on the grass next to him.

He has flowers,

but I know they're not for me.

I wonder who gave them to him,

but I don't ask.

I tell Adam about my day.

I say, "I saw your dad

at the supermarket.

I didn't talk to him-

it's not like he knows who I am,

and even if he did,

I wouldn't know what to say.

I watched him

take things off the shelves,

look them over,

and then put them back.

There was almost nothing

in his cart.

I wonder if he's always been like that,

or just lately."

I say, "I miss you."

I ask if he's missed me too,

then wait for his answer.

If that squirrel runs up that tree,

then his answer is yes.

If it stays on the grass,

his answer is no.

The squirrel doesn't move,

and my breath catches in my throat.

After a moment,

it zips up the tree.

I smile and lie down

next to Adam.

I wish he could hold me

like he used to,

but he doesn't.

The warm sun makes me drowsy

and I fall asleep on my side

next to Adam.

When I wake up, grass is imprinted

on my arm and leg.

I brush my self off,

but Adam doesn't move.

I say, "I'll see you tomorrow."

I reach out to touch him,

and my fingers make contact

with words:

ADAM CRAWFORD

DIED AGE SEVENTEEN

BELOVED SON AND FRIEND

**Ok, I know this starts out slow but this is like the prolog. Who has read this story plz no spoilers :) so I didn't write this or come up with the plot. I am obviously going to change names and some other things, but they won't be major. Hope you R&R **


	2. Chapter 1

If I do not sleep,

it will not come.

If I do not sleep,

it will not come.

If I do not sleep,

it will not come.

I need this night

to last forever.

I need it to go on

because once I fall asleep,

it will be tomorrow.

It will the day

of Adam's funeral.

And I can't do that.

I can't see that.

I can't feel that.

My eyes are burning.

They want to seal shut.

They want a break from crying.

My body is sore from tensing,

and it wants release.

It wants the softness of sleep,

but I cannot give it that.

I cannot

let that happen.

I cannot

go from today to tomorrow.

If I do not sleep,

it will not come.

If I do not sleep,

it will not come.

If I do not sleep,

it will not come.

I repeat these nine words

like a mantra.

I try to hold on to them

like worry beads,

like a rosary,

but instead of keeping me focused

they are lulling

me to sleep.

If I do not

sleep it will

not come, if I

do not sleep

it will not

come, if I do

not sleep it

will not come, if

I do not

sleep

it

will

not

come.

**Alright so here's another :) I might upload again today...maybe :)**


	3. Chapter 2

Morning light streams in my window.

The air in here is stale.

I need to get out.

Rachel will be here in an hour,

but I can't wait that long.

I pass my father's bedroom.

His door is open.

His bed is perfectly made,

unslept in.

Outside, the late June air

is heavy and hot,

but it's better than in my room.

I'm not sure where I'm going,

but when my shoes hit the sidewalk,

I know.

I walk down the street

and take a right turn.

I go two more blocks

and find myself at the cemetery.

It doesn't take long before I hear it-

the sound of dirt and rocks

sliding against metal shovels.

There are men digging Adam's grave.

They are digging a hole

in the cool earth, on a hot day

for the boy who has occupied

my thoughts and my heart

for the last three moths,

for the boy I lost

my virginity to,

for the boy I think I loved.

I've heard these guys dig before.

I've heard this guys talking,

but today I want to scream

them into silence.

I want to tell them

to have some respect

and not talk

about everyday things,

like how hot it is

or how much more

they have to dig.

This

is not

every day.


	4. Chapter 3

This is how I found out:

I was watching a my favorite Musical

when my cellphone vibrated angrily

against my dresser.

I looked at the phone and was surprised

to see Rachel's name.

I answered my phone

and cautiously said,

"Hey . . . what's up?"

"I have to tell you something.

It's about Adam," Rachel answered.

There was something

about how she said it

that made me think

she was finally going to apologize

and say she had been wrong about him.

But instead she said,

"Something happened today

while Adam was playing basketball."

An injury, I figured;

he had a broken leg or something.

But what was with all the drama?

And why was she

calling to tell me?

We hadn't talked in weeks.

Rachel said, "No one knows

exactly what happened yet.

But he died, Kurt.

I'm so sorry

I hate that I'm the one

telling you this.

Especially after . . ."

I stopped listening.

My whole body was shuddering.

Uncontrollable.

"What?" I said.

It was the only thing

I could say.

"My dad was walking the dog

by the playground

and saw an ambulance.

He asked who was hurt

and they told him it was a teenager

named Adam Crawford,

and that he had suddenly died.

My dad came home and asked me

if I knew who Adam was."

"What?" I said again.

"He collapsed on the court.

The paramedics said

he died on the spot.

There was nothing

they could do."

Not possible, I thought.

Adam was healthy.

Seventeen.

Just finished his junior year.

How could he be playing

basketball one minute

and then be dead the next?

How could there be no in-between?

No treatment.

No drugs.

No surgery.

No hope.

No nothing.

Not possible.

"Kurt, are you still there?"

"Uh-huh."

I couldn't even make real words.

I thought, I need to call someone.

I need more information.

But who could I call?

Adam and me didn't have

the same friends.

I could call Mercedes or Jeff,

to tell them what happened,

but they didn't know Adam

other than from my stories.

I could call my dad, but I never

told him Adam and I

were together.

I could call Adam's house

to see if his parents knew more,

but I bet the last thing they'd want

is to talk to a boy

they'd probably never heard of.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No. I'll talk to you later."

I hung up the phone

and looked around my room.

There were pages from magazines

and posters on the wall,

photos of friends,

piles of dirty cloths,

and all of it seemed absurd.

It was absurd

that I had dirty laundry

and that Adam

was dead.


End file.
